


pleasant surprise

by hackercatz (beherrscht)



Series: crossing shadows [2]
Category: Noblesse (Manhwa)
Genre: (the sub is into it but the dom doesnt ask for it), Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Consent Issues, Enthusiastic Consent, M/M, Safewords, Sensory Deprivation, Top Drop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:55:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29516331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beherrscht/pseuds/hackercatz
Summary: Raizel wants to try something different.
Relationships: Frankenstein/Cadis Etrama di Raizel
Series: crossing shadows [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2193552
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	pleasant surprise

**Author's Note:**

> around halfway of writing this i realized this is exactly the same thing as ive written last time so just keep that in mind while you think it's sloppy. this is literally the same circumstances as my LAST porn fic. help. how do you recreate the absolute fucking same situation and NOT KNOW AS YOU WRITE IT???????? by being me apparently 
> 
> (i wrote it for the top drop and it really shows in the narrative)
> 
> uhhhhhhhhhh not in same verse as streamer and camboy. this is more them in their thirties with a ring on their fingers and an ambitious job that is demanding so they have to plan out their dinners like 3 months in advance to get a super romantic candlelight dinner and sex. technically this fic's verse will have a fic of its own but no promises im literally getting spasms trying to get used to my new meds that make me useful academically but absolutely useless everywhere else??????

Frankenstein is the more experimental one out of the two of them. Raizel's been in less relationships than he has, in not one but all platonic, romantic and sexual senses, which meant that the courting and the initiation has always been left up for him to decide. He doesn't mind, playing the leading role for Raizel—from the moment they met, he's been smitten for him, so teaching him the steps to take in bed weren't so detrimental for his cause. But it's always been him who brought new positions, toys and kinks, and never Raizel, though he never rejected any of his suggestions.

So after hours of separation due to their highly-respected careers, when Raizel takes a sip of his black tea and abruptly places it down into the saucer and looks right into Frankenstein's eyes while saying, "I want to try something different tonight," _in bed_ heavily implied, he immediately stops and blinks.

"Hm? Try what?"

Raizel bites his lips and avoids his eyes, expression a mix of embarrassment and something else that he hasn't seen on his lover before. It takes Frankenstein a few moments to place it because of its sheer scarcity. _Hunger._ "Something... more intense. I've been reading on the internet."

The look, while foreign, isn't unfitting on him. He wears passion and flame as naturally as he dons grace, and Frankenstein swallows, giving Raizel his full attention. "Alright, what is it?"

(Frankenstein thinks if he were not so exhausted from an incident at the lab, he would have noticed the heavy shadows embedded on Raizel's eyes. However, as circumstances are as now, all he notices is a he doesn't let his . Only seeing the silhouette, but not the true nature, of the storm coursing through Raizel's psyche.)

* * *

They've tried BDSM once.

The experience had been interesting, to say the least. Frankenstein had lain his partner down, fixed the leather-padded handcuffs over Raizel's two wrists, connected it to the headboard, and they had sex. It'd been less BDSM than it had been merely Bondage—a big, fat, solitary B. When they were finished and Frankenstein pressed on the latches to make the steel fall away, Raizel had rubbed his pulled muscles with a thoughtful face, and said, _hmm_. Left it simply at that, and Frankenstein had never pushed.

They never gave it another go after that.

Until today, it seemed—because now Frankenstein is completely vulnerable and strategically laid out on the bed, his two legs positioned to be moderately spread out and his arms bound together with leather-padded manacles that bit into his skin at every twist.

 _"Do you trust me?"_ had been the only warning he had gotten before Raizel led him to the bed, removed most layers until he only had his loose dress shirt and his black slacks crumpled and unbuttoned, unzipped. Frankenstein let his silence speak as an answer, tipping his head back to let Raizel graze his crimson gaze all over his exposed body. Held his tongue even as Raizel took his two arms and bound them together behind him, and pushed him back on the bed.

Following that, a box had been pulled open and he had been fitted with a blindfold as well as a gag—both of which had never seen proper use before in their vanilla kink-free sex life, somehow leading him to his current predicament. His breath, despite the absurdity of the situation, quickens with the toys fixed over his body.

Raizel's voice is monotone and placid, oddly austere without the usual quality of childish innocence it always had held. "If you want me to stop immediately, kick me twice wherever you can reach me. Until then, I'm going to keep going. Understood?"

Frankenstein nods, and curses the blindfold for prohibiting him from seeing the smile that must be gracing Raizel's face right now. The shadow presence disappears, and soon he is left with only the darkness blinding him.

Before he can panic about it, however, a leather-encased palm pats his flank, starting from his hips—fuck, _leather?_ They had leather gloves lying around in their kink box? Why the fuck haven't they used them before?—feeling every bump of the ribcage with the tip of his fingers. The touch is cooler than what he's become adjusted to, but the warmth radiating from his body as well as Raizel's own body temperature warms it gradually, no longer so foreign after it travels up to brush against a nipple.

So familiar. Then he remembers. The only leather gloves _anywhere_ in this house are Frankenstein's work pair. Sure, Raizel could have bought a new one, but the leather is obviously worn in from their softness against his sensitive skin, a sign of repeated use.

Raizel's touching him with his _own_ gloves.

The finger leaves as the thought hits, and before he can even mourn for the warmth's absence it is immediately replaced by a pair of incisors that bites into his skin hard enough to draw blood. The motion has Frankenstein flinching against his will, only out of sheer surprise. The time it is repeated against the left, he only moans around the ring in his mouth, sticky pleasure trickling down his spinal cord following electric-hot pain like an echo of thunder a beat behind lightning.

It is only because he's become so keen on reading between the lines—it's a skill one picks up naturally when you cohabitate the same space as Cadis Etrama di Raizel, because 99% of his communication is non-verbal—that he immediately relaxes when he feels two grab his chin and tilt them upwards, and doesn't choke when a cock fucks right into his windpipe. Not that any patterns in behavior he had noticed from Raizel before helps in this specific encounter, because Raizel is not his usual overcautious, hesitant self.

As he sucks the length deeper into him, feels those slender fingers twist in his hair until it hurts, the first thought that passes through his mind is, _God, I've got to ask if he needs regularly scheduled therapy_. Then, following it immediately is, _This is so hot, though. Can I get this regularly while I take him to therapy?_

He moans gutturally, hoping that Raizel can feel the vibration on his cock, and from how the grip on his hair wavers for one moment, he knows he has succeeded. He doesn't get a moment to revel in his glory, however, because Raizel with his steadfast new grip on Frankenstein's hair, pushes in with unyielding force. If Frankenstein were any less practiced at this, or if deepthroating were a skill you lose over time without practice, he would have choked. As they were, all he does is swallow obediently around Raizel, breathing through the nose.

Once he gets comfortable enough, he tries to move his head to control the agonizingly slow pace, but the two fists twisted between them are inexorable that he gives up soon after. There's only so much struggling he could do, tied up so thoroughly like this—like a present, a plaything. That's the point, isn't it—Raizel asked for absolute control.

Perhaps sick of using Frankenstein's mouth like a warm and pulsing cocksleeve—though Raizel wouldn't know what a cocksleeve even is—he starts to move, rhythm rapidly accelerating at every thrust. The world devolves down down to three points: the pricks from where Raizel is pulling on his hair rough enough to pull their roots, his fully-stuffed obstructed airway that he needs to focus on so that he doesn't accidentally end up choking, and down under where his hard-on demands some action. Uncountable minutes pass, filled only with Raizel's heavy breathing and the wet slap of their bodies, until Raizel spills down his throat with a weak whimper.

It isn't even _him_ who just came, but bright light bursts behind his eyelids as removes himself succinctly, leaving Frankenstein suddenly without an anchor. Not for long, because Raizel's knee mercilessly digs into his fully-erect cock. He grunts, the air punched right out of his lungs, and the pain disappears as quickly as it arrived.

"Are you alright?" Raizel's voice is like that of a specter, present while also not. It will depend how Frankenstein reacts to this—if he shakes his head, Raizel would be here immediately by his side with four fluffy blankets, trying his best to smother him with warmth and affection.

Frankenstein would lick his lips if the ring gag wasn't in the way. He twists his head towards where the sound came from, and nods in big, broad motions, the tip of his chin hitting his torso each time. He smiles around the gag as the hesitant and shaking body relaxes against him, and the knee kneading his hard-on pleasurably presses forward until it's anything but.

He's never been the type to enjoy pain, mostly having been on the doling side rather than the receiving, but he finds this pleasurable nonetheless. Maybe it's because, despite the suffocating silence and the lack of senses and the uncharacteristic cruelness, it's Raizel doing all this—so obviously him if just you know what to pick out. Raizel, the only human being he could trust to treasure him as he relentlessly lets out steam. The one exception to his everything.

He flinches when the cool touch of lube probes him without warning, two fingers entering him without hesitation. Meanwhile, Raizel's mouth nips at him, pulling on his lips until he draws blood. When a third finger presses past, stretching him open properly, the warm mouth travels under to bite at the long curves of his neck instead. The fingers disappear after the adequate preparation, and before he gets impatient, Raizel's pressing his cock through the ring of muscle.

Despite the preparations it's a tight fit when Raizel finally presses into him with a deep, punctuated thrust, both of them moan, breaking the established silence. Raizel's breath is ragged and shaky already, even though he hadn't even moved once, like the pleasure is overwhelming him. Then, experimentally, he rolls his hips to press forward deeper, until he finds that stop that makes Frankenstein keen and tighten around him. A gentle finger collects the fringes that's become free in Frankenstein's thrashes to tuck them back where they belong, and warm lips kiss his collarbone—the calm before the storm. Frankenstein, mumbling something that comes out as unintelligible blabber with the gag, presses down to him to ease him, giving his consent.

After the attempts, he starts to move properly in a frantic pace, a sloppy piston that somehow still manages to hit his prostate with inferring accuracy each time. Every time Raizel fucks into him, his frontal incisors bite into his pale skin, leaving another graphic bruise in a mark of possession—another star added to a sea of constellations.

It's near their peaks when Raizel tugs at the blindfold down until the cloth hangs around Frankenstein's collar loosely. Even from his recovered sight all he can see is Raizel, only Raizel, completely disheveled as he shakily inhales in a futile effort to catch his breath again. Yet he doesn't step away, even though he surely must be feeling lethargic after having a powerful orgasm wash over him mere minutes before, and instead bites into the soft skin of Frankenstein's lips, and with them so close Frankenstein can hear what he's saying, a litany of mine, mine, _mine_ —

The pain, pleasure and mixed all together is what has him tipping over after so long—and if Raizel feels discomfort from having Frankenstein's tight body entrapping his softened and oversensitive cock in a vice grip, he doesn't show it. Instead Raizel pulls the gag off him after undoing a buckle at the back of his head, his face twisting back into a much familiar expression as he asks with a perturbed tremor in his voice, "Are you alright?"

Frankenstein wants to reply, he really does. Yet the post-orgasm drowsiness coupled with that he had been barely getting his hours due to an incident at the clinic, his eyes are already fluttering close. He'll reply later, he really will. He just needs a flicker of sleep to get his mind in the right order again.

* * *

—Raizel is _crying_.

That's the first thought that enters his mind as he rises sluggishly from unconsciousness, and once it properly registers to Frankenstein that Raizel is crying, he's sobbing into the pillow right now, he becomes alert in record speed. It takes Frankenstein three seconds to thumb the latch attached to the inside of his leather-padded cuffs, snapping the bonds off his wrists, and two for him to gather his sobbing lover into a comfortable, compact burrito that fits right inside his arms.

In between the hiccups, he barely makes out the slurred words. "I'm—I'm so sorry, 'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"You didn't do anything I didn't want you to," Frankenstein assures him, bringing him closer until their heated cheeks are brushing each other's. Drying mixture of lube and precome smears onto Raizel's fair skin, but neither of them are in the position to care. "We chose a safeword and I never evoked it."

"But the marks. I didn't want to hurt you," Raizel stares blankly, pupils blown right open, the colors of his eyes taking the jet midnight black of his hair over the usual crimson shade. A shaky finger brushes against a blistered patch on the junction of his neck, reminiscent of an apology.

Fuck. Frankenstein wants to kiss him so badly, kiss the grief off his face and swallow that emotion into his _own_ heart.

"And you didn't," Frankenstein whispers, kissing a fringe of his hair. "You did nothing that crossed my lines. The marks will fade in a few days, and until then, they'll be a reminder of you."

The guilt doesn't dissipate from Raizel's face, though his eyes flick down to the path of purples and blacks, scattered around his fair skin like reverse constellation. When Raizel opens his mouth to say whatever in objection to his words, this time Frankenstein gives into his craving, kissing him relentlessly, hard enough to bruise.

Anyone who Cadis Etrama di Raizel has only seen the foot of his silhouette would say that he is a capable successor of noble heritage, no doubt as merciless as his brother. Anyone who had actually been acquainted with his presence would say he is a sheltered angel, incapable of any violence whatsoever. Frankenstein, the eternally oath-bound partner of his as well as being an expert psychiatrist and psychologist, knows that while they are both correct to some degree, fundamentally, they are both wrong.

The world isn't a chessboard, with stark separation of whites and blacks; instead, it is an endless spectrum of hideous grey, with moral reprehension and admission differentiated by paper-thin standards, constantly evoking an endless stream of philosophical questions. Despite how much he wishes to believe in what the idealists propagate, he is not deluded to think that Raizel is exempt from the world, the very nature of humans. His professionalism does not allow him to be blinded by subjectivity—to turn his head away from the reality that Raizel's kindness is rooted in fear and trauma. His infinite forgiveness and reluctance is birthed by that if the hate festered in his heart, he would not be able to stop walking down the path until he is the mirror image of the very people he despises and had done all he could to escape.

Raizel, in the end of the day, is and only can be human, and he is a made saint rather than a naturally-born one. The shadows, merely because the film cannot capture them, does not mean they do not exist; it meant that only a few chosen could see them. In Raizel's case, Frankenstein is the only one who is privileged to see all angles of him. Frankenstein is the only one who's allowed to see him as who he truly is— _human_. "Hey, you wanted to take it out. I didn't mind. _Really._ "

Raizel's gaze only drops, the tenseness still obvious in his muscles. Frankenstein can't imagine the emotions rushing through his mind—guilt, doubt, _humiliation_ —but he finds it a need to ease it. So, with utter sincerity he declares, "I love you."

The admission stuns Raizel into silence, so thoroughly that even the tears stop in surprise. With his eyes still puffy red and voice groggy he questions slowly, "I—What have I ever done to deserve you in my life?"

Frankenstein asks that question to himself every day, when he wakes up with Raizel still drowsy without his morning cup of black tea. In silence he leaves his left hand deep inside Raizel's hair, and alters his head with his right so that he may leave a trail of kisses down Raizel's neck.

Once Raizel calms down enough for the light to return to his eyes and, Frankenstein gently cards through Raizel's smooth locks using the hand that is in it already. Like a needy cat, his husband ardently arches to the touch, breath evening out under the careful, sensual caress.

"Want to tell me what that was about?" Frankenstein probes once Raizel's breathing completely evens out.

"It's—it's nothing important," Raizel sighs. Frankenstein takes it as, _it's everything important_.

"Come on, you can tell me," Frankenstein murmurs, emphasizing with a kiss on the lips. "Did something happen at work today? I can see that you thought long and hard about this, but you weren't planning to do this today. Which means something must've happened that made you feel like you were really out of control."

"Stop psychoananyzing me in the bedroom," Raizel pouts, which means that Frankenstein had been correct in all his guesses.

A laugh. "I can't exactly turn it on and off like a light bulb. It's the job, but I can't _not_ notice it when the evidence are all laid out on me."

Raizel broods in the silence, stealing warmth from Frankenstein's body. After settling into the space offered to tuck himself in appropriately, in few minutes his lips come apart to expatiate. "It seems so trivial compared to everything you went through, but... My parents called me about my brother. It... _escalated_."

Frankenstein tuts his tongue. Raizel doesn't like talking about his family, having felt like he had never been a part of it in the first place. Raizel himself described his life as being a replacement part for an eternal, perfect piece that was his brother—a second place that'd never see the light ordinarily. The bitterness from Raizel is not something he'd normally expect from his husband, but it is still comprehensible—Frankenstein himself had dealt with enough manipulative bastards in his life to have a moderately distasteful view of humanity; the people who betrayed Raizel were his very _family_ , the people who should've showered him with unconditional love and affection. It's only amazing he has become who he is despite all he had suffered through, letting the hate forge him into a better person rather than letting it overwhelm him.

Raizel runs his tongue on a dry piece of skin on his lips. His eyes, though they are riveting with focus, are faraway, dredged in the losses of the past. "It just brought back bad memories. I told you it was nothing."

Instead of digging into the topic that his lover is obviously trying to distract him from, he only kisses him again and chastises him softly on his lips. "Hey. It's not nothing if it affects you this badly. Never think that your problems are any lesser because someone has it worse than you. Your feelings are valid, and it's perfectly reasonable to think that way, alright?"

"Yes, Doctor," Raizel's reply is a flat, monotone husk that would have been hurtful if they were not ccompanied with a cheeky twist of his lips.

Before he can articulate more psychology-babble, a yawn escapes from himself completely unprovoked. Raizel groggily reaches for the blanket strewn across their carpet, and in the presence of the man he loves, he decides the talk can wait.

Yet, as he is about to sink properly into sleep, an imperative thought enters him. Regretful to break the comfortable silence but yet unable to hold his tongue Frankenstein asks, "If you don't feel comfortable telling _me_ about it, want me to set an appointment with a decent therapist on your behalf?"

Raizel's answer is a sleepy mumble against his shoulder. "Yes, please."

**Author's Note:**

> if youre into noblesse and is a slut ass whore bitch ass whore for raifran and noblesse maybe maybe join [cadiscord](https://discord.gg/hSVkdHj) where i hover like a dead spirit haunting esc and the other mods who actually talk about noblesse


End file.
